But they are moving steadily, the height of a man,
Like a man among the dark trees holding a lantern
A clear small floating flame with a tinge of green,
Many small flames, all climbing the stony mountain,
Like an invisible army; but no footfalls move
Over the soft red dust, no shadow ruffles
The yellow-box-trees that the silver phalangers love;
Oh no there are no men here, there are only the fireflies,
Steadfast and radiant travelling over the spur
Where the hot earth lies heavy in dust and silence;
But indeed oh indeed some army is moving here,
Some invisible power flashing in points of brilliance
Unravelling over the earth its unearthly plans,
Uncanny to meet at night among the stones.